Spy fic First ChapterPreview
by Baby Hedgehog-Cute but DEADLY
Summary: As of right now, the first chapter of my future spy fic. Just wanna see what you guys think. :) ALSO: POLL ON MY PROFILE! GO CHECK IT OUT! PLEAASE


**So, I decided to post this just because I wanna see how you guys react to it. You know that spy fic that I've been dropping hints about? This is the first chapter (as of right now; it may be subject to minor or major changes). Tell me what you think! ^v^**

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

**_Unknown location, eight years ago, approx. 11pm_**

The sun had hidden away for the day, letting the full moon take over and bring its nightly reign of darkness along with it. The highway was barren, save for the occasional car. Normally there would be more vehicles about, but many people had let themselves be influenced by the superstition behind the date. The bright full moon in the sky didn't exactly help the 'Friday the 13th' mood either.

A lone, rusty gray car careened down the highway, its small form moving back and forth across the empty lanes. The driver appeared drunk, if his dangerous driving wasn't any indication.

"Slow down, Sam, please!" a plump woman in the passenger seat begged. Her tangled brown hair framed her fearful expression.

The driver ignored her, and instead took another swig from the dark bottle in his free hand. Most of what was meant to go into his mouth spilled onto the yellowed fabric of what might once have been a white shirt. His round potbelly stuck out from beneath the hem.

"Sam! At least stop drinking!" The woman tried to take the bottle from him, but he yanked it out of her grasp and whacked her in the forehead with it. The woman howled in pain and recoiled away from him.

"Yer _my _wife, M'sheel!" the man growled, his intoxicated state causing him to butcher the pronunciation of the woman's name. "You do whu' _I_ say, no' the otha way 'round!"

A whimper was heard in the backseat.

"SHUDDUP!" the man bellowed, turning in his seat to face the two seven-year-olds in the back.

The boy whimpered again, burying his face into his brother's chest. His small form trembled in the arms of the other. The second boy (who had been trying and failing to block out the voices of his parents) glares at the man.

"Don't talk to him like that!" he yelled in response.

Something in the boy's eyes frightened the man. It always had. Whenever he saw the child's intense brown eyes, or the similar ones of his twin, the man sensed something… unnatural. It was why he hated the boys so much. He could never tell them apart, so he despised them both. He hated the fact that he feared two mere seven-year-olds. Even through his drunken haze, he could still feel it there.

The man masked his fear with an expression of anger. "You little—"

"Please, Sam, don't do this to them. Not on their birthday," the woman said softly, glancing back at her children. Unlike her husband, she knew why her children seemed… different. She knew that the younger twin, the one in the arms of his brother, seem different in the same way as well, but the Gene lie dormant longer in the younger siblings, so it was hard to tell whether or not he inherited it as well. The woman wanted to smile at the obvious love that the twins had, but then she remembered her angry husband and scooted as far away as possible from him.

The woman knew that she just had to bide her time. Once her twins were a bit older, say, in their teens, then their abilities should have fully matured. Then, then the three of them can leave her husband. It would be _he _who cowered at _their_ hand, not the other way around! The woman would get her revenge! Until then, though, she has to suffer through this.

"Wha' more do you want, bitch?" the father growled. "I took 'em out like you wanted me to!"

"You took them to a _bar, _Sam!" the woman cried, tears streaming down her face to keep up her act. She hated having to feign weakness to this extent, but she had to. "You were going to _sell_ one of our children for _twenty dollars_!"

"I would've if the weirdo didn' go nuts and knock 'em himself out. And so? We don' need 'im anyways. One is enough."

The younger let out a sob. The elder held his sibling closer. He gasped and squeezed his eyes shut when a sudden pain thundered through his head. For a brief second, he saw a bright light and heard two adults yelling at each other, a man and a woman (he recognized the voices as those of his parents) and then a scream. Then, the image changed into his shaking hands holding a document, but he couldn't make out what was on it. Then, as quick as the headache and vision came, they were gone. It all took place within five seconds. The boy knew at that moment that something was going to happen.

Something _big._

The car approached an intersection, and the light turned red.

"Sam, slow down. You're gonna run the light."

"There's no one out 'ere, we're fine."

"Sam, _stop_!"

"I DO WHAT I WANT, BITCH!"

"SAM!"

_BEEEEEEEEP!_

The sixteen wheel truck slammed into the small car. The gray vehicle went flying, rolling four or five times before coming to a stop on its side.

…

The broken glass sprinkled the pavement like the beginnings of a light snow. The car was almost unrecognizable from the side that had been hit.

The boy tried his best to shield his brother's view of the mangled bodies of their parents. Their father had died on impact, the truck having slammed into his side of the car point-blank, and their mother… well, the boy wasn't sure how she turned out, but he _was _sure that he didn't want to find out.

He glanced down at the black string that his mother had given him for his birthday. It was a perfect, pale green colored, half of a sphere. His twin had gotten a similar necklace that was made up of the other half of his sphere, but his was a light blue color. His mother had said that it would help him find his way to his sibling if they were ever separated. Right at that moment, it was glowing brightly and felt warm against his sternum. His brother's was glowing as well.

He closed his eyes and promised himself he would remember his mother.

He briefly wondered about his vision in the car. The headache was never that bad before. Why was this time different? The boy knew that he _saw _the accident seconds before it actually happened, but what about that paper?

He heard the wailing siren of an ambulance. Strange, he hadn't heard anyone making the call. He knew that if the other driver had called 911, then the person should have tried to check up on them…

…unless the other driver was too injured to do much more than make a phone call. _'And besides,' _the boy rationalized, _'the truck is pretty far away.'_

His left wrist hurt. A lot. And so did his right leg from his mid-thigh down. For some reason he couldn't really feel his fingers or his toes. Why was that? He looked down at his hand immediately regretted it. It was just… hanging there… so much blood…

He heard a whimper, and he banished his thoughts so he could focus on his twin.

"Jackie… I hurt so bad," the younger gasped, tears streaming down his young face. Blood that oozed from his stomach coated his small hand.

"I know, Logie. I'm sorry," the elder whispered. The younger grasped his brother's good hand even tighter, whimpering.

Footsteps approached the car, and a light appeared.

"Whassat?" the younger asked quietly.

"They're looking for us," the elder realized. His eyebrows furrowed and mentally debated whether or not to stand up and defend himself and his twin. After a moment of indecision, he held his brother closer. He didn't think he could stand up. He also had a really bad feeling about the people that had come to help them.

The people that had _supposedly _come to help them.

"Who?" his sibling questioned.

"I don't know." The sickening feeling deepened. The boy is confused as to where his dread is coming from. Why would he fear the paramedics?

"Whatever happens, just don't leave me, okay?" The volume of the younger's voice rose as the person got closer.

"I won't." The elder desperately hopes he can keep his promise.

"Jackie!" The other was sobbing.

The person walked around the car and shone his light on them before calling someone else over.

The younger screamed his brother's name one last time.

"I WON'T!"

…

The boy woke up on a gurney to see a dark shape looming over him, and he felt something being pressed against the side of his neck, just underneath his jaw. Immediately thinking it was his father, he tried to lash out and found that he felt really weak.

"Woah, easy there, son. Glad you're back."

"You…" The boy frowned, confused. The pressure on his neck disappeared. "You never call me son… what do you want? And where was I?"

The man's face came into focus, and the boy realized that this _wasn't _his father.

"Where was I?" he asked again.

"Just gotta stay still, alright?"

The man had a gruff looking face, and the boy immediately didn't trust him, but he nodded anyway. He looked over to his right. He saw his twin's still form, covered with a blanket up to his shoulders. His hands rested on top of the blanket.

"Hey, don't—"

"Logan?" The boy asked.

No answer.

The paramedic tried to calm the boy down.

The boy reached over and grabbed his twin's hand.

His skin was cold.

"Lie back down!"

"Logan?" the boy called again, louder. He shook his brother's hand a little.

Still no answer.

The boy raised his head.

"Kid, don't make my job any harder—"

"Logan?!" The boy began resisting the man now, wondering what kind of heartless paramedic this was. "Logan!"

"Don't make me—"

"LOGAN!" The boy started to cry when he realized why his other wasn't answering. He didn't want to believe it. "LOGAN! No! NO!"

The paramedic grabbed a sedative and used his teeth to get the cap off of the needle.

"NO! LOGAN! LOGAN!"

He injected the boy. The child barely even felt the prick as he continued to call his twin.

"Please!" the boy cried, begging the man to understand. "That's my brother! No! I can't leave him! I can't… I can't leave him!" The boy's head dropped back onto the pillow as the sedative started to take effect.

"No…"

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

**CARDINAL Headquarters, Albany, NY, 3/12 14:22**

_"Welcome back, Agents Anderson and Turner," _Evelyn's computer generated voice greets in monotone, her words appearing in blue letters on the small TV screen that's built into the white elevator wall. The doors close, and anyone on the other side looking at the closed elevator would think that it was a normal part of a brick wall in a normal alleyway. Oh, how wrong they would be.

A short trip later, Arthur and I are on the first floor of Headquarters. Up until this point he had been ranting about how much he hates me and some other crap that I could care less about, but as we walk out of the elevator, he states one last thing that set me off;

"You, Jack, don't know _anything_ about going out into the field. You're nothing but a scrawny little skate rat and a _lab experiment."_

Oh, _hell _no.

Let me get this straight with all of you. There are three things you can do that I guarantee you will piss me off: mess up my hair, endanger civilians, and insult my abilities. And Arthur has done one too many of those.

I clench my fists, silently counting to seven in my head to try and calm myself down. It doesn't work. So, instead of walking away (like I probably should have), I turn around to face him. "And _you_ are nothing but a spoiled little _poser_."

I probably could have said worse, but hey, I'm just nice like that.

I turn back around and start to walk away, when I hear him rushing at me. My defensive instincts kick in, and I whip around and throw him into a section of the wall that is under repair and therefore boarded off with wood. He crashes halfway through it in such a way that he's practically sitting in the hole.

My vision gains a light orange tint and brief phrases stating attack options show on the left side of my line of sight. I can suddenly hear, smell, and see better.

I'm about to surge forward and finish him off when I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn my head and see Marissa, my mentor and guardian, glaring at me through narrowed blue eyes. I shrug off her hand and storm off to my room, the orange tint and the words fading.

The guy totally had it coming. He's got an ego the size of Jupiter _and _he's a complete douchebag to boot. Just because he has a rich dad in high places in CARDINAL doesn't mean he can treat anyone and everyone below his father's position like dirt.

CARDINAL. Generator Rex. They're practically the same thing because _Man of Action _is really four rogue agents that decided that they didn't want to be a part of us anymore. They disappeared off the radar for a while, and not even Evelyn could find them. Then, about a year later, they suddenly appear; along with a new TV show. It was too late to do much more than get rid of them, since they had already released all sixty of the episodes they had planned to do. Almost everything in the show had a significant other in real life.

Providence. A.k.a., CARDINAL. They're both secretive government agencies, but CARDINAL is even more secretive than Providence. While Providence goes all out with their guns and soldiers and huge airship things to take out the monster terrorizing the public, we secretly dispatch agents to go find out about the threat and quietly squash it. This might be because all adversaries CARDINAL are fully human, and not giant mutated humans out to cause destruction. CARDINAL also has a branch in every single state in the US, as well as some other countries as well, and the ones outside of the US have different names.

It's also funded by some billionaire inventor that lives in Chicago. Not sure about his name, but I do remember his initials because they're the same letter; DD. Rumor has it that he's remarried and has a stepson, as well as three superhuman teenagers.

Marissa Mayer's cartoon counterpart would be Six. Both of them are badass ninjas with two deadly magnablades. Both of them have to look after a "mechanically advanced" (not my choice of words) teenager with a questionable past. And both of them may or may not be the love interest of the smartest person in the whole organization. But there are some major differences between the two; Marissa doesn't wear a green suit or sunglasses all the time, and Six isn't an Irish redhead with a fiery temper.

I, of course, would be Rex. The two of us are the most valued agents in our respective organizations. While Rex has the awesome ability to transform his body parts into robotic devices that can aide him, I simply have a robotic left hand, right leg, and a number of chips located in various parts of my brain. What happened just now with the orange vision is just one of the chips at work.

Lucky me.

The chips glitch sometimes, though. According to the previously mentioned billionaire inventor, it's because the they were never meant to be integrated into the human nervous system. Their main purpose is to "keep the body stabilized," but this wacko inventor also threw in a prototype thing that allows me to have some superhuman abilities; superhuman abilities that tend to act up at random times. Like, for example, sometimes if I sneeze then something in the room that I'm in blows up. Last time it was a toaster.

It wasn't pretty.

Like Rex, I don't remember any of my childhood. Anderson isn't my real name, but I don't _know _my real last name, so I suppose it will do. I'm not able to recall anything before waking up in a car with Marissa when I was eight. I've been told, though, that I was in a car accident when I was seven. This accident killed my parents and sibling and is the reason I have a robotic hand and leg. Then, apparently, I was kidnapped by a bunch of enemy spies posing as paramedics. What they would want with a seven year old, I have no idea. I was in their clutches for about a year until CARDINAL swooped in and rescues me. Me waking up to them bringing me back to Headquarters is the farthest back I can remember.

The only thing that I have from my childhood is a dark brown leather strap about an inch wide with a pale green half of a sphere on it. It used to be a necklace, but I decided to convert it into the bracelet. I'm not sure what the hemisphere represents, but it's from my childhood so it must mean something.

_"I'm assuming the mission didn't go as smoothly as expected," _Evelyn says, as I place my hand on the ID pad that would open the door to my room. I walk inside and the door slides closed behind me. My TV turns on, displaying her form of choice for today. She's chosen to be a formal looking woman that is all business, complete with a suit, blonde hair tied up in a bun, and a no-nonsense expression.

That's not a good sign. Usually she's pretty casual, taking on the form of a female in her thirties or under for the most part; like yesterday, for example, when she was a teenager about my age that wore a graphic tee, a jean jacket, and shorts. The fact that she's all serious right now is making me kind of nervous, because she's one of the only two people (she's not a person, but you get what I mean) that I know are nice to me just because that's just the way they are.

"Not in the slightest," I groan. "He provoked our target into shooting at us, accidentally hit me with a tranq gun, got us captured _twice_, somehow managed to speed up the explosion time of a pipe bomb, and endangered a bus full of innocents because he decided to try and impress a girl. I hope I never have to work with that idiot ever again."

_"For the sake of the walls, I hope so, too."_

I roll my eyes at the statement, flopping down on my bed. Bella, my beloved bulldog, is awakened by the movement. Raising her head, she stares at me sleepily before recognizing me. She gets up from the corner of the bed that she was resting in and plows through the blankets before arriving in my lap, where she promptly falls asleep again.

I smile (a rare expression for me) down at the three-year-old canine, rubbing her head fondly. She was given to me by a grateful couple that I had saved from the rage of an arsonist. At the time, she was just a puppy, and I loved her as soon as she was put in my arms. Whenever I'm out on a mission or something, the "Bella Box" takes care of her. This box is basically a machine that will walk her (built-in treadmill), wash her (soapy brushes) and do all the stuff that a bulldog needs to be healthy. It makes me feel bad that most times I'm not here to do it all, but I can't control when I have to go out for a mission.

I guess Bella's equivalent in the Generator Rex universe would be Bobo Haha, the talking monkey. Or gorilla. Or chimp. Whatever the heck he is. But Bella never goes with me on missions, so I'm not sure how _Man of Action _turned her into a mutant-fighting primate.

_"Jack. Mr. Buscall requests a video conference. Shall I open the conversation?"_

I frown. Evelyn's voice sounds… cold. Detached. I mean, yeah, she's a computer program, but I've known her long enough to be able to tell when something's up.

"Yeah, go ahead," I respond, walking over to the mini-fridge in the opposite corner of the room from the Bella Box and grabbing an apple from the inside. Evelyn disappears from the screen to reveal a sight so horrifying, so terrible, so _awful,_ that it makes me want to scream in terror. This coming from a guy who has witnessed a corpse come back to life to try and kill him. (The result of a psycho scientist bent on world domination deciding to try and recreate the movie _World War Z. _Don't ask.) I drop the apple in shock.

My boss. _Smiling._

I shudder, half expecting him to scream "April Fool's!" before ordering me to do something, even though it's the middle of September. As you probably guessed, Mr. Buscall (or you can use my nickname for him, "Buzzkill") in Generator Rex is White Knight. They're both pretty much the same in appearance and demeanor. But, Buzzkill _smiling_? It must be the end of the world. But I don't hear any screaming…

_"Jack," _he says in a sing-song voice. Sing-song! What has this world come to?! _"I have a surprise for you!"_

"Is it my sanity?" I deadpan. "Because I'm pretty sure I lost it a few seconds ago."

The normal scowl returns to his face (hallelujah!) and he glares at me.

_"What? I'm human. I'm allowed to be expressive."_

"Well—"

_"Just get down to my office," _he huffs.

I do as the man says and exit my room, making sure Bella is inside before the door slides shut. I notice two men walk by me a couple of seconds later, in the direction of my room. I dismiss the thread of suspicion I get from that, thinking that they're just going to the storage closet that's not far from my room. One short trip later, I've arrived in Buzzkill's office, and I'm surprised to see Marissa and JD there as well.

JD McHale is a weird combination of Dr. Holiday and Caesar from the show. He's got Holiday's medical smarts and job of making sure I'm healthy, and Caesar's scientific genius and mad scientist tendencies. He invented half of the technology at CARDINAL. But, even with all of his intelligence _and _his eidetic memory, he is completely clueless when it comes to his feelings.

But what is he doing here? I mean, I understand Marissa being here, because she's my guardian and anything Buzzkill has to say to me is usually her business, but JD being here doesn't make sense. It's like your doctor going with you and your parents to school to talk with your teachers.

Marissa, ever the blunt one, simply states, "You're being moved to IL."

IL. Illinois. Though I've been to Illinois two or three times for missions, I didn't really consider it a 'homey' place.

_"What?! _Why?!"

"You are no longer needed here," Buzzkill states.

A little orange light flashes at the corner of my vision.

"You're lying," I hiss. I feel too angry to bask in the fact that I'm needed here. My sight starts to take on the familiar light orange tint, initiated by my anger. "That's not the reason. Why won't you tell me?!"

If he's taken aback by me calling him out like that, he doesn't show it. He hasn't really been around me enough to actually experience some of my abilities first-hand, but he knows enough about me through mission reports and what he's been told. "You don't need to know."

"With all due respect, Mr. Buscall, doesn't he have the right to know?" Marissa says, in a voice that's anything but respectful. She hates the guy just as much as I do.

"Marissa and JD are in here because they're going to be leaving you and posing as your parents," Buzzkill states, ignoring Marissa's question. "Think of it as a lifelong Cloak mission."

"P-parents?..." I'm momentarily thrown off. I haven't had parents in a long while. I don't even remember them. "Fine. Whatever. But you know that I'm one of the best fighters here [because of Marissa's training]. And it's not like I'm just going to pack my stuff and agree to this."

Buzzkill grins wolfishly. "I know that. That's why I have two men in your room gathering your belongings as we speak."

I remember the two men that passed by me, and I scowl. I knew something was off about them.

I momentarily feel sorry for JD He clearly doesn't want to do this. I can tell Marissa doesn't want to either. Even though she's just as stoic as she always is, I've known her long enough to be able to take one look at her and I'll have a general idea of what she's thinking. That, and whenever she's really angry or feeling some sort of extreme emotion like that, her Irish accent bleeds into her speech.

Buzzkill, on the other hand, is all too happy to get rid of me. He and I have butted heads plenty of times in the past, and it drives him nuts that he's not allowed to fire me. His boss's boss won't allow it, claiming I'm too "valuable." For Buzzkill, moving me to another branch is the next best thing.

I turn around to leave the room and go stop the men, but the door slides closed before I can get out. I slowly turn back around and face Buzzkill. JD has his eyebrows furrowed. Marissa looks tense.

Before any of us can react, Buzzkill is standing, has a gun in his hand, and is pulling the trigger while growling something. Normally I would have responded within a split second, but the whole "HOLY CRAP MY BOSS IS SHOOTING AT ME?!" thing kind of delays that. The dart (because the gun is a tranquilizer gun, which is weird because he of all people would have access to a real gun) hits me in the shoulder. My knees buckle underneath me, and seconds later my body hits the floor.

Curse the effectiveness of those things.

Marissa's by my side in a split second. I can hear her Irish accent clearly as she tries to get me to stay awake. My vision starts to swim. I hear snatches of JD yelling at Buzzkill, catching the phrases "only a prototype" and "reacts negatively". Orange words reading _"system shutting down" _scroll up my line of sight like the credits at the end of a movie. Then, the darkness takes over.

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><p><strong>Ok. So that's that. <strong>

****Does Jack seem too OOC? Or does his personality seem just out of whack? I think I turned him into a cocky, sarcastic, sort-of-introverted, _thing. _I dunno.****

****I haveyetto think of a good name for this. The one I've chosen is 'Bionic Oblivion,' but I really hate it, so can you guys help me think of a better one?****

**The accident scene is based off of the one from that movie _Charlie St. Cloud. _And this whole story was inspired by _Cinder _by Marissa Meyer. (That's where I got Marissa's character from.) To those of you who are fans of her, she has a Fanfiction profile. I think she writes stuff for Sailor Moon or some kind of anime show like that. I can't remember the name at the moment, but you should be able to Google it and find out.**

**Past all of that, what'd ya think? I can't even begin to tell you guys how excited I am for this fic.^v^**

**-BP**

**P.S. This is a crossover with two other shows. See if you can figure them out. ;)**

**P.P.S. Reviews are addicting. Like a drug. Or _Criminal Minds_ (which my MOTHER has banned me from watching but that I still watch anyways). Or Max Schneider. Or OMFGIt'sJackandDean. Or GUMMY BEARS OMFGL;FJDK;LASJF**

**10/19/14 Edit: Response to Reviews-**

**Anialoveskick: **_Nice ff_  
>Thanks. :)<p>

**dragonmarshmallo: **_OHMYGOD you are one of the best writers here in the Kickin It category. I love love love all your writings especially this one 3 and hmmmm lemme guess Logan as in Shake It Up and DD as in Donald Davenport from Lab Rats ;)_  
>Thanks. That means a lot to me. :') And you guessed right!<p>

**Pazific: **_:D D: c: u: T: (: ): I don't know what to feel!_  
>Well. Considering the fact that four out of seven of those are positive, I'm thinking that you like it! :)<p>

**bexs12345: **_It is a crossover with Lab Rats and Shake It Up! Also will it just be in here_ [in Inspired By, which no longer exists] or_ will it be a separate story?  
><em>It'll be a separate story.

** .Friday: **_I really like the idea! But he is pretty OOC._  
>I agree! Which is why there's a poll on my profile! :)<p> 


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